


Drunk, Stoned, or Stupid

by loverloverlover



Category: Addicted Series - Krista Ritchie & Becca Ritchie, Calloway Sisters - Krista Ritchie & Becca Ritchie, Like Us Series - Krista Ritchie & Becca Ritchie
Genre: Confessions, Drinking, Dual POV, F/M, Fluff and Angst, Hurt/Comfort, Relationship Reveal, lunnelly, security force omega
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-05-10
Updated: 2020-05-10
Packaged: 2021-03-03 00:08:44
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,995
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24115537
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/loverloverlover/pseuds/loverloverlover
Summary: After a long shift on duty, Donnelly meets up with SFO at a bar. Then his phone rings.Luna is having a decidedlynotgood night, but luckily she's got Donnelly on speed dial.
Relationships: Luna Hale/Paul Donnelly, Maximoff Hale/Farrow Redford Keene
Comments: 8
Kudos: 19
Collections: the lunnelly diaries





	Drunk, Stoned, or Stupid

**Author's Note:**

  * Inspired by [Rattle the Stars](https://archiveofourown.org/works/13993845) by [twinyards](https://archiveofourown.org/users/twinyards/pseuds/twinyards). 



> happy mother's day everyone!

Paul Donnelly had been many things in his life and called a great many more things—most of them decidedly negative, or at least derogatory and not something to be repeated in polite company. So he was pleased as a fucking peach that he finally found something that he was proud to be called. A bodyguard. Hell, he was fucking good at it, too, and like he’d told Farrow, the only way he was leaving security was if he was forced out—either he fucked up and was fired, or life took a turn for the worse and it was time to finally meet his maker.

Somedays, being a bodyguard was harder than usual. Sometimes the paparazzi were extra rabid, or the fans got a little too techy, and next thing Donnelly knew, he was buried in paperwork and bitching to Oscar. But hey, that was the life he signed up for, and it was a bit of a rush when he was able to diffuse a situation and successfully protect the famous one.

These days, he was sitting comfortably as Xander Hale’s bodyguard, and even though it wasn’t his choice to be transferred off of Beckett’s detail, he was enjoying the new assignment.

Donnelly can safely say that he loved that kid, but sometimes—especially on Xander’s lowest days—Xander _un_ comfortably reminded him a little too much of himself when he was younger. It made it hard—especially on _Donnelly’s_ lowest days—but it also gave the two of them common ground, and it’d been long enough now that Xander knew bits and pieces of Donnelly’s turbulent past. That little extra bit of understanding that Donnelly brought to the table made a hell of a difference when it truly mattered. Donnelly can even see in Xander’s eyes that the kid _knows_ that he gets it.

Like today, the two of them had sat together in relative silence on the red bean bag chairs in Xander’s room. Any move or glance that Donnelly had inadvertently made towards the door had had Xander looking at him with pleading, anxious eyes. It wasn’t often these days that Xander wanted someone there while he slept, and it’s almost _never_ that he actually asked for it even when he knew it’d benefit him—something Donnelly could also relate to, as he was well aware of how hard it was to ask for help. Donnelly, though, just radioed for an extra guard to fill in for the night shift—he’d stay himself but Akara’s new rules had a mandatory rack-out period that Donnelly had already encroached on. Ben Cobalt’s bodyguard was the first to answer the call, likely at the behest of Ben himself as the Lord knew that no one of Team Epsilon would voluntarily help out Donnelly, but it was still nearing one in the morning before it was safe for Donnelly to head out.

After a goodbye fist bump to the kid, a ruffle of his hair, and Ben’s bodyguard completely ignoring him, Donnelly headed straight to the bar to meet up with SFO. He was in desperate fucking need of a drink. Entering their usual pub in South Philly twenty minutes later, he spotted everyone in the corner booth by the pool table and headed to them immediately. Thatcher was the only member of Omega missing, and Donnelly knew it was safe to say that the taller man was tucked up—sweaty and cozy—with one Jane Eleanor Cobalt. The two of them were, after all, still basking in the bliss of their engagement.

Maximoff was squeezed into the inside of the booth next to Redford, that handsome fucker twirling a glass of soda around with his left hand—that of which Farrow most definitely taste-tested for alcohol. Donnelly’s best friend was leaning up against his fiancé’s chest with one of his combat-boot clad feet up on the cushion. He was messing with his cartilage piercing and secretly smiling down at Maximoff’s twitchy fingers. _It seemed that Maximoff wasn’t the only one with a love for his fiancé’s fingers,_ Donnelly thought. The Oliveira brothers were seated on the cushioned bench opposite of the love birds, and they were, for once, speaking amicably to each other with smiles on their faces. Akara and Banks were clutching pool sticks, but neither of the two men seemed particularly invested in their game. They were leaning their heads together and whispering fervently about something—something that Donnelly, and his gossip loving ass, needed to know immediately.

Donnelly, having finally wove his way through the bar patrons, shoved Farrow’s knee off the bench and slid in next to his friend.

“I need a drink,” Donnelly voiced as he leaned his head back against the wooden slats above the cushions of the booth. He eyed the crowded as fuck bar-top—Maximoff’s presence packing the pub more than usual—and resolved that waiting for a drink in all that would make him even more frustrated. He decided to calm his shit and wait to flag down one of the servers.

“You good?” Oscar asked, apparently taking in Donnelly’s tone and expression.

“Long day,” was all Donnelly muttered in reply.

“Is Xander okay?” Maximoff asked, his voice urgent as he leaned around Farrow to look at Donnelly. Farrow and Oscar were Donnelly’s best friends—he’d do fucking _anything_ for them, and he wouldn’t trade them for the god-damned world—but he thought that he’d like to have Maximoff in his life more. The way that man cared for his family was something to be admired, and Lord knew Donnelly needed people like that in his corner.

“Yeah, he’s fine, don’t worry,” Donnelly assured. “Ben’s bodyguard was with him when I left.”

Donnelly reached for the half-empty bucket of peanuts and started munching, but he still felt shaky so he pulled out his pack of cigarettes and lit one up. As he exhaled his first plume of clove-scented smoke, he felt his phone begin to vibrate in his jean pocket. He almost let it ring out—he _was_ technically off the fucking clock after a fifteen-hour shift and most people who’d call him whom he’d actually _want_ to speak with were in this bar with him. Something in his gut, though, told him, _pick up the fucking phone._

Sighing, he checked the caller ID and saw Luna’s name flashing above a picture of her with a joint between her fingers and her tongue out—of course, no one but him needed to know that she hadn’t been wearing pants when he’d snapped it.

He answered the phone call, because of course he did.

“Yo,” he said in greeting.

There was nothing but silence on the other end of the line, and it took him a second to deduce that the faded sound of house music was coming from Luna’s end of the call, not his.

“Luna?” he asked after fifteen seconds of silence. He plugged his other ear to hear her better. “You there?”

He could feel everyone looking at him—none of their gazes more forceful than Maximoff’s or more questioning than Quinn’s—but he wasn’t worried yet. Knowing Luna, there probably wasn’t anything seriously wrong and she was likely just high and wanting to chat with someone—she was, after all, a sucker for phone conversations. As he waited for her to speak, he thought back to his declaration of “I’d never give up being a bodyguard.” He realized that… he realized that if Luna asked him to quit security, he’d have his fucking resignation papers in to Akara before she could even finish her request. It was strange to think that the one person who had that power over him would never actually take advantage of it—she’d never ask him to quit. It was the only _positive_ catch-22 he’d ever heard of.

“Remember when we talked about what we thought it’d feel like in a space shuttle?” she finally asked, slurring a little. But, intoxicated or not, that question was _all_ Luna Hale—one-hundred percent original fucking content from his girl, always. He would admit though, her tone of voice sent him a little into the _yikes_ zone.

“Of course,” he replied. “You said that, barring teleportation, that’d be the most nauseous way to travel.”

“Apparition!” she corrected with a cute-as-shit giggle.

“Yeah, yeah, that Harry Potter thing,” he added. He was trying—and semi-failing—not to grin as he listened to her laugh again, not wanting his very interested audience to overanalyze the situation.

“Well, I feel like I’m in a space shuttle, babe,” she admitted. “And we’re doing loopies ‘round the moon. Do you wanna come do loopies ‘round the moon with me?”

“Always, but Jesus…” he finally grimaced. He took another deep drag from his cigarette. “Are you _crossed?_ Where the hell did you get off to?”

At this question, Maximoff lunged across Farrow to grab for Donnelly’s phone, but Donnelly just leaned out of reach. “Donnelly!” Maximoff hissed. “What’s happening? Where’s my _sister?”_

“I went to a stupid party… in my _neighborhood,_ with the hellions,” she admitted. Hellion twins… _Elliot and Tom,_ his mind supplied. “And I am most definitely… crossed. Where the hell did _you_ get off to, Paul?”

“I’m sitting in a bar with Omega and your brother,” Donnelly answered easily. “And _‘Paul?’_ You _are_ out of it; you never call me that.”

“Question!” she proclaimed as he chuckled, and he knew her eyes were wide as she prepared to voice her thought. “Can I call you ‘Paul’ when we have sex?”

“Christ, woman,” he muttered. It was time for a deep _deep_ drag of his cigarette as his mind took a happy little detour into sexy-ville. _She’s trying to kill me,_ he thought. _Focus, Donnelly, focus._ Though that was easier said than done because all he could picture now was her underneath him… with her long, soft brown hair splayed over his sheets and her perfect mouth forming his name on a moan… talk about bliss.

“Do you really think you should be at a party without Quinn?” Donnelly asked, shaking himself free from that spiral—as good as it was—before the whole bar knew what he was thinking.

“Uh…” she stalled. “Quinn’s here!”

 _“Tsk tsk,_ Luna Hale,” Donnelly mock scolded—though he _was_ actually worried about her being at a party without a bodyguard. “You’re a lying liar, babe. I’m looking at Quinn’s pretty mug right now.”

“Oops.” She giggled some more. “Sorry, I didn’t mean to lie…okay, I did, but I’m still sorry.”

“It’s all good,” he assured. At this point, Maximoff stayed true to Luna’s word and went ‘three-fourths Loren Hale,’ and he looked liable to fucking strangle Donnelly if he was kept out of the loop for one more second. “Okay, Luna,” Donnelly said, trying to get her attention properly. “Your brother’s here with me, and he’d like to talk to you. I’m gonna put you on speaker so he can hear for himself that you’re not dead in a ditch somewhere. No more bad language words, okay?”

“So… I _can’t_ say that I would very much like to have drunk sex with you right now?”

“No, Luna.” He finally let a smile slip through. “Even if you really mean it—because let’s face it, that sound fucking fantastic.”

“Pun intended,” she added with yet another giggle. “Anyway, do your worst, babe.”

Donnelly hit the speaker button and set his phone down on the table. Akara and Banks had joined them the minute Maximoff had let on that something wasn’t right, and now, they leaned on the table—their expressions serious as they braced their forearms on the wood. With all of Omega together in a circle like this, they almost created a cocoon, and Luna’s voice was somehow easily heard in the otherwise loud bar.

“Hello, ‘O Brother ‘O Mine,” Luna greeted.

“Luna, where are you?” Maximoff asked immediately.

“That’s a secret!” she yelled playfully. And yeah, she was definitely higher than she was drunk, thank the heavens. “A secret only for aliens and bodyguards with septum piercings!”

Everyone looked at him and his brand new septum piercing, but he made sure his face betrayed nothing. He had had a feeling she wasn’t going to be telling anyone but him where she was.

“Luna, you could get hurt or something bad could happen,” Maximoff said evenly. “If you’re without a bodyguard, you need to tell us where you are right now.”

“Hey! I haven’t done anything wrong!” she rebutted. “I’m still in the _gated_ neighborhood—I don’t need a bodyguard with me. _You_ didn’t take a bodyguard with you when you went to parties down the block.”

“Yeah, and I also got into a hell of a lot of fights,” Maximoff said.

“And we’re not saying you did anything wrong, Luna,” Farrow added, trying to calm her. “We’re just worried. Let us come and pick you up.”

“This isn’t fun anymore,” she pouted. He could just see her sticking out her bottom lip, and he wanted to kiss her so fucking bad (but what else was new). “This phone call was supposed to go another direction.”

Oh yeah, Donnelly knew _exactly_ what she meant by that, and he had to roll his eyes. This girl was too fucking cute.

“Come get me, please,” she requested.

“Just tell us where you are,” Farrow reiterated quickly. “Maximoff and I will be there as soon as we can.”

“No,” she said strongly. Maximoff’s brows furrowed in both hurt and confusion. “Can you take me off speaker?”

Donnelly knew she was once again talking to him.

“Lu?” he questioned, putting the phone back to his ear. “You’re off.”

“I just want _you_ to get me,” she stated. “No one else, please.”

He didn’t want to do her the insult of asking her if she was sure, but he had to for the benefit of his audience. Donnelly knew that if she wanted anyone but him to come and pick her up, she would have called _them_ and not him. “Are you sure?” he forced himself to ask. “Your brother’s rip roarin’ ready to go.”

“I’m very sure. Please promise that you’ll come alone, Paul.” Her voice was distinctly thick and he sat up straighter immediately.

“Okay—it’s okay, don’t worry,” he tried to assure. She sniffled through the speaker. “Hey, don’t cry. You’re okay, and I’m on my way. Just hang on, Luna.”

“Alone?” she asked quietly.

 _Fuck,_ he had to go _right now._

“Alone, I promise.”

Quinn looked the most affronted at that declaration, and Donnelly couldn’t blame him. If it had been Beckett or Xander on the other end of the phone, Donnelly would’ve been pissed as hell if he was left behind and out of the loop. But, what could he do? He was _definitely_ going to go and pick her up alone—no way in hell did he say no to a crying girl. He _especially_ didn’t say no to a crying Luna. Hell, just the fact that he knew she was crying made him want to find the reason she was upset and beat the fucking shit out of it.

“I’ll text you the address,” she said. “And please speed— _safely_ speed—because I wanna see your face,” she sniffled, “and maybe hold your fucking hand.”

“You got it,” he replied. There was a soft smile on his face now because, fuck him, he wanted to see her face too—and maybe also hold her fucking hand. “I’ll see you soon.”

He hung up the phone, shoved the thing back into the pocket of his black skinny jeans, and stubbed out his cigarette in the glass ashtray on the table. He patted around the pockets of his leather jacket to make sure his keys and his wallet hadn’t somehow disappeared in the ten minutes he’d been in the bar.

“She’s gonna text me the address,” he informed the group. Akara nodded at him. “She’s fine, and she swore there was nothing wrong. I think she just needs to be in bed. So, like I said, I’m gonna go get her and take her home—and I promised her I’d come alone.”

“She needs to be in _bed,_ eh?” Maximoff said, his face like granite. “And whose home are you taking her to? Hmm? Hers or yours?”

Maximoff looked a little scary in that moment—more like his dad than Donnelly had ever seen him look—and Donnelly almost rocked back onto his heels. If he were anyone else, he might have, but people had been looking at him like that his whole life. It was literally nothing new. He did take a calming breath, though, and pull out a cigarette just to place it behind his ear.

“You know,” he stated calmly—much more calmly than he felt.

“Jane let it slip,” Farrow confirmed. “In Scotland.”

“Wait, know what?” Quinn asked, unusually slow on the uptake. It was clear that everyone else was well aware of what was happening at the moment, and Oscar looked the most shocked.

“You can punch me later, or some shit,” Donnelly muttered, running a hand over his face. He just immediately became tired, and now that he and Luna had been unceremoniously outed, he might just very well take her to _his_ apartment. If he was going to be skinned alive by Bro and Papa Hale, he’d like one more night of looking at Luna’s face—even if she were passed out asleep. At least she’d be in _his_ bed, under _his_ sheets, pressed up against _his_ body, and wearing one of _his_ ratty t-shirts.

But no, he’d take her to her apartment… and he only _might_ stay over… maybe.

“I’m not sorry about it,” he added, looking between Maximoff, Farrow, and the rest of SFO. He didn’t blink, as he wanted the group to know that he was serious. “I _am_ sorry I didn’t fucking tell you, but I’m not sorry about her. And I’ve gotta go, I’ll talk to you guys tomorrow.”

At that, he turned for the exit. He barely made it two steps from the table when Maximoff called out, “Just text Farrow when you know for sure she’s safe, will you?”

Donnelly walked backwards for a second and gave all the bodyguards and two-fingered salute to the temple in acknowledgment.

.:..:.:..:.:..:.:..:.:..:.:..:.:..:.:..:.:..:.:..:.:..:.:..:.:..:.:..:.:..:.:..:.:..:.:..:.:..:.:..:.:..:.:..:.:..:.

Luna’s emotions were all over the place tonight as she sat on the curb in front of Tanner O’Brian’s mansion—the party still in full swing behind its walls—and waited for Donnelly to arrive. She pulled her wet t-shirt away from her body, but it didn’t distract from the fact that she was sticky and drenched in some jungle juice concoction. Oh, the joys of random underage parties. Luna knew that she shouldn’t have come to the party without _at least_ letting Quinn know where she was going to be, but Elliot and Tom had talked her into it at the last minute. Who was she to say no to a good time? She was, however, having decidedly _bad_ time at the moment.

She knew that her brother hadn’t meant to make her feel stupid about her decisions tonight, but that was where her still slightly intoxicated brain was taking her. She’d been seated long enough for the worst of the spins to disappear, though. In all honesty, she felt like shit less for not bringing Quinn with her, and more so because she knew she’d disappointed her brother in some way. It was written all over his voice on the phone, which had further solidified her decision in asking Donnelly to come and get her. She hadn’t known the two of them were going to be together, after all, and she had fully expected to be waking Donnelly up and dragging him out of his apartment.

Luna knew that Donnelly wouldn’t judge her—that he wouldn’t say a single bad word about her decisions tonight, even if he truly thought she _had_ messed up. Sometimes, her brother held her in such high esteem that it was a little choking. Maximoff would love her regardless of anything she could ever do—she was convinced he’d even help her drag a dead body across the living room floor—but that just made messing up all the worse.

She let out a relieved puff of air when a security SUV finally pulled up in front of her. She swiped her slightly damp eyes on her sleeves before heaving herself to her feet. She was only a little (a lot) embarrassed that she stumbled on her way to the rolled-down driver’s window.

“Hey pretty lady,” Donnelly greeted, leaning his head out of the window and resting his arm on the sill. “Can you help me? I’m looking for a sad alien.”

“No alien here,” she replied, looking him over and lingering on his eyes. “But I’ve got a boatload of sadness. Wanna buy some of it?”

Luna forced a smirk to her face and made little _tch-ing_ noises as she fired her finger guns at him.

“Sad you may be, babe,” he grabbed onto her hands, “but you’re also most definitely an alien.”

“You sure about that?” she asked. “Because I’m feeling decidedly normal at the moment.”

“Of course I’m sure.” He grinned, pulling her in and giving her a quick peck on the lips in greeting. He pulled back way too fast, in her opinion. “Because, Luna Hale, there’s absolutely no one else like you on earth. Now get in the fucking car, and let me take you home.”

Luna had to keep one hand on the car’s exterior as she made her way around the front of the SUV and slowly pulled open the passenger-side door. After she buckled herself in, she closed her eyes and leaned back against the seat, exhaling as if she were expelling her problems like she would plumes of smoke. She was still out of it enough to not even jump when Donnelly’s hand settled on her thigh, his thumb swiping back and forth in a comfortable rhythm.

“Are you okay, Luna?” he asked quietly. “Did something happen?”

The other girl’s words fluttered through Luna’s mind: _The tabloids were right; you_ are _a fucking slut. Why don’t you take your weird ass and your useless personality and get the fuck out?_

“I’m fine,” she whispered back. “Or I will be as soon as I get into a bed. I just… do you ever feel useless?”

She lolled her head to the side to look at him, and his eyes carried such sadness that her breath caught.

“All the time,” he admitted. “But then I remember that Xander relies on me, and that helps. So does the fact that you called me—out of everyone who would’ve fucking chopped off their right hand for a chance to help you—to come and pick you up.”

Donnelly was quiet for a moment, and she placed her hand over his on her thigh.

“And _then,”_ he continued, this time with a silly grin on his face, “I remember that Redford would be useless without my wit, and all the Wawa’s would go out of business if I didn’t buy something from ‘em every day— _that_ would be the true shame.”

Luna laughed thickly and wiped her eyes again.

“And _you_ contribute so much more to the world than you realize, and your family would be lost without you. You’re the crazy glue that holds the Hale’s together.”

“Did you just call me crazy?” she asked with a true smile.

“You are such a doofus, Luna Hale.” He leaned in and pressed a warm kiss to her temple. “Let’s get outta here.”

.:..:.

As Donnelly pulled into the underground parking garage at her apartment complex—really, it was his apartment complex as well, considering he lived on the floor below her—she came to the conclusion that she was never going to find someone who _got her_ as well as he did. It wasn’t just his actions and words from tonight, either. On the drive here, her high brain was given ample time to go over every interaction they’d ever had. Not only did she realize that she was a little in love with him, but she realized that he just might be a little in love with her too. He had rambled aimlessly the whole drive, knowing she needed something to distract herself with. Donnelly’s voice was so soothing—soothing enough that her headache disappeared (though the water bottle he’d handed her had likely had its own hand in that). Not to mention, that tattooed hand of his didn’t leave her thigh for the entire drive.

Everything about him was comforting, and the simple fact that he was sitting next to her had kept her from spiraling into the dark depths of her mind. Plus, he was hot as all hells. She couldn’t help but watch him, and there was something about the way Donnelly gripped the steering wheel one-handed that just _got_ to her. She was still watching him when he threw the car in park and hopped out, leaving Luna staring at the empty place on her thigh where his hand used to be. Before she knew it though, he was pulling open the passenger door and looking at her expectantly. She just stared at him, standing in the open door, and didn’t move a muscle.

 _Gods_ he was gorgeous.

“You still okay, Lu?” he asked.

She could only nod, not quite sure that that was the truth.

He let out a deep and raspy chuckle that had her thinking of far different things.

“Would you like to get out of the car?”

She nodded again (and felt a little like a six-year-old that needed help doing the simplest of things).

“Okay then.” He was still chuckling as he leaned in and unbuckled her seatbelt. She forced her heavy legs to lift her out of the car.

“I’m so tired,” she whispered, as she lumbered to her feet and used his muscled shoulders to steady herself.

“I know, babe,” he whispered back.

She sniffled again, and tried to take some deep breaths to stave off the impending sobs. Everything began bubbling up and over the lip of the pot all at once.

“Hey, hey, hey,” he soothed. Donnelly cupped her face in his hands and pulled her closer. “Something happened tonight, didn’t it?”

She nodded minutely as tears slipped down her cheeks.

“You know you can tell me, right?”

“It’s stupid,” she admitted. “You’ll laugh at me.”

“It’s not stupid if it’s upsetting you this much.”

Luna thought back to the party, and before she knew it, the whole story was tumbling out. The story about how a girl named Katherine had stormed up to Luna in Tanner’s kitchen and thrown her drink straight into Luna’s face. Apparently, Luna had been “putting the moves” on Katherine’s boyfriend. Luna was convinced that the other girl had just been looking for an excuse to make a scene because Luna didn’t even fucking recognize the boyfriend in question.

“And she called me a slut,” Luna added. “I’m _not_ a slut, no matter what those fucking tabloids say—or preppy bitches named Katherine who’re possessive over their mediocre looking boyfriends.”

 _“Rawr.”_ Donnelly grinned as he wiggled his eyebrows.

“I’m serious, I’m not a slut, you know,” Luna said defiantly.

“Oh, I know, babe,” he assured quickly. “You could never be a slut. I, on the other hand, am _definitely_ a slut.”

“You are not, shut up.” She playfully slugged him in the shoulder.

“It’s not a bad thing,” he said with a shrug. Luna could only stare at him. “The word ‘slut’ is _not_ a nice word, I’ll give you that, but there’s nothing wrong with anything that society says makes a person a slut. It’s a fucking bitchy-as-hell word, used to describe women who have a lot of sex. Not even, though—a woman could be a fucking virgin and people would still find a reason to call her a slut.”

“See, I know you’re right, but it’s hard to remember all that when you’re dripping in jungle juice and everyone is staring at you like a zoo animal.”

“Now _that_ is an exhibit that I would spend all day at.”

“Shut up, Paul,” she murmured with a blush.

“What, you’re hot a shit, Lu.” He shrugged like that was the most casual statement he could’ve made, and coming from him, it was. He said stuff like this to her all the time, and it actually made her _feel_ hot as shit. It wasn’t necessarily what he said that made her feel beautiful, though. People said she was pretty in magazines and on social media almost daily. It was the fact that he knew her—knew all of her—and still thought that she was beautiful.

Off her silence, Donnelly just said, “Come on, let’s go up.”

He tilted his head towards the elevator and took a few steps back in its direction while still holding onto her hands. All at once, her exhaustion returned

“Would it be annoying of me to ask you for a piggy back ride?”

“I thought you’d never ask.” Donnelly grinned. He pulled her towards him, but instead of turning to let her jump onto his back, he bent down and gripped her behind her knees. Donnelly then hoisted her into a front piggy-back, just like she’d watched her dad do for her mom for years, and just like Donnelly had done when they’d been dancing in that Scotland tavern. This was the first repeat performance for them, and she squealed a little in delight and instinctively tightened her legs around his waist. Luna wrapped her arms around his neck and tucked her face under his jaw. He only had one arm supporting her weight as he grabbed her half-drank water bottle out of the car and shut the door with his foot.

There was nothing sexual about the way he was holding her at the moment—though his hand was on her ass and her mind had given her more than a few ideas. He was just holding her close, and she was breathing him in through deep inhales. Luna’s thoughts from earlier came flooding back—only the good ones, mind—and she felt immensely safe in the circle of his arms. So comfortable, in fact, that she must have up and dosed off somehow because next thing she knew, Donnelly was pilfering her pockets for her apartment keys. She kept her eyes closed as he unlocked the door. There was a frantic rustling sound, and the pitter-patter of three sets of puppies’ paws, coming from deeper in the apartment

“Is she alright?” Maximoff urgently asked of Donnelly.

“She’s fine,” Donnelly whispered. “She’s just exhausted, so I’m gonna take her to her room.”

“I can do it,” her brother said.

At the same time that Luna subtly shook her head into Donnelly’s neck, Farrow said, “Donnelly can manage, wolf scout.”

Donnelly didn’t wait for anyone else to speak up, he just started down the long hallway to her room. Luna pressed an open-mouthed kiss to his neck that she hoped conveyed all her gratitude for him, but just in case, she also whispered “thanks” into his warm skin. He used his back to ease open the door to her room and he kicked it shut with the sole of his combat boot. Even inside the room, a place with _ample_ things to set her down on, Donnelly kept her in his arms.

“You don’t have to thank me,” he replied.

She leaned back to look at him in his bright blue eyes, only to find him already gazing into her brown ones.

“We got a little bit exposed tonight,” he said into the dark.

“Try a _lot_ exposed,” she replied softly. “I’m sorry about that, it was my fault.”

“Don’t be sorry. It was bound to come out eventually, and Omega won’t tell anyone if we don’t want them to. I’m actually glad that they know.”

She trailed her fingers across his jaw, and let her thumb linger on his bottom lip.

“Can I tell you something, Paul?” she asked. “Something that will probably freak us both out?”

“Go for it.”

“I’m a little bit in love with you,” she whispered.

His eyes got wide and his fingers tightened into the back of her t-shirt. She waited him out, and just watched all the emotions flicker through his eyes at rapid speed. He took a few unsteady steps and collapsed onto her bed, but she took it as a positive sign that he didn’t run screaming from the room—or worse, throw her off his lap.

“You don’t have to say anything,” she said. “I just realized that it was true tonight—when you were the only person that I wanted to call for help. And in hindsight, I should’ve realized it when I freakishly stopped washing the clothes you left in my room because I wanted them to smell like you for as long as possible.”

Donnelly stayed silent.

“And thank you again, for tonight,” she added. “I’m really glad you came to get me, and I lo—um… I’m _glad_ that you did.”

He was still silent, and now it was making her antsy.

“Okay, I know that I said you didn’t have to say anything, but I’m scared that I just royally fucked up.”

“You didn’t,” he choked out after a few more seconds. “It’s just…”

He trailed off, but before Luna could continue her spiral into ‘freak out’ territory, he kissed her so forcefully that she gasped in surprise. Donnelly just barreled on, and he took advantage of the opportunity to swipe his tongue into her mouth. He pulled her achingly close, and she helplessly moaned when he threaded his fingers through her hair and tugged her head back to kiss down her neck. She was immediately hot all over and she began frantically pulling at his t-shirt, desperate to get to his skin. Like they were timing it, they pulled back at the same time to whip off their shirts.

Then it was just skin and hands and lips… and he was pressing her into her bed and she was clinging to him. His hands were like hot iron brands on her bare skin, so she attempted to even the score by licking her way up the column of his throat—he had a thing for her tongue piercing. But obviously, he was winning this round because mid-groan, he somehow unclipped her bra. It was then, with one of his hands on her boob, that he pulled away. She was panting and hot all over—not to mention pleasantly hazy and a little confused—but he just looked down at her. She was distracted by his thigh between her legs and his thumb on her nipple, but she did her best to wait patiently and _focus._

“No one’s ever said that to me before,” he rasped. “Not like that.”

Donnelly was the most tender person she’d ever met, and she didn’t think anyone knew that about him. He was a poster boy for public displays of affection, or at least as public as they’ve been allowed to be. He loved ass grabs, and spontaneous make-out sessions, and doing this thing where he stood behind her and held her close by grabbing ahold of both her boobs (she didn’t mind). But he also loved hand-holding, and forehead kisses, and side hugs, and playing with strands of her hair. So when he leaned down to softly brush his nose against hers, she wasn’t surprised—nor was she surprised that his hand didn’t budge from her boob.

She _was_ surprised by what he said next, and her heart felt as though it stopped dead in her chest.

“I’m a little bit in love with you too.”

**Author's Note:**

> “chat with someone?” donnelly??? she wants to chat with you, you dummy!!
> 
> also, this title only halfway fits this fic, but it’s from this card game my friends and i play at pre-games—we use it to roast each other lol. this should be named “Drunk, Stoned, or In Love” but that was a little too on the nose. 
> 
> i drew inspiration for this fic from so many different sources. i got the idea originally when i read “Rattle the Stars”—yup, _the_ lunnelly fanfiction—and this is my spin on one of the chapters from that. i also got inspo for a couple of the phrases from the peter parker fanfic [“Constant Internal (Spider) Screaming”.](https://archiveofourown.org/works/20463974/chapters/48556103) and the two fingered salute at the end of donnelly’s perspective is an homage to andrew minyard from “All for the Game.” (and not to self-promote, but I also have a fic for that series posted [here](https://archiveofourown.org/works/21350617) *looking eyes emoji*) I got the “useless” idea from vampire diaries, which I watched as I wrote this.
> 
> anyway, thanks so much for reading!! i hope you enjoyed reading this as much as i enjoyed writing it. let me know all your thoughts :))


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